


White Christmas

by LemonadeGarden



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Bruce and Jason's adventures through mother Russia, Christmas Fluff, Gen, Jason is a Dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 22:03:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12219828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonadeGarden/pseuds/LemonadeGarden
Summary: Jason's been in the manor for a few months now. Bruce is a pretty cool guy, sure, but he's not exactly sure what to expect from him.And then they go to Siberia in the winter on a case. It goes horribly wrong, and then pretty well.





	White Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> So I have no explanation for why I wrote a 8k long Christmas fic in September other than the fact that it's the end of September, so it's actually almost October and October has Halloween in it which, when you think about it, is basically in November, and November is practically December and all of December can be considered Christmas.
> 
> So. Uh. 
> 
> Enjoy?

It's almost a week into Jason's Christmas vacation when Bruce calls him up to his study.

"Jay," he says once Jason gets there, clearing his throat uncomfortably. They've really only just known each other for five months now. Only just started actually liking each other for maybe. . . what, a month?

"I've always liked you, Jaybird." Bruce would say gruffly to him, he knows. And maybe he has. Who knows _what_ freak thought led to Bruce bringing him home to the manor that night all those months ago. But Jason hasn't always liked him. Not at all. He spent those first few weeks trying to figure out Bruce's ulterior motives. That, and he stole. He stole a _lot_ of shit.

Jason winces. A memory passed through his head of Alfred finding a small stash of Bruce's cufflinks in Jason's bagpack. Alfred had just put them back in Bruce's room and bought Jason cufflinks of his own. _What a weirdo,_ Jason thinks fondly.

"Are you even listening?" Bruce is saying.

Jason shakes his head, grinning. "What's up, Boss?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Stop calling you what, _Boss_?" Jason says.

Bruce sighs. "I was saying, that I won't be here for the next week. So you and Alfred will have to fend for yourselves without me." He says it with a wry sort of a smile, like it's some kind of joke, but Jason frowns.

"What d'you mean, you won't be here? You'll miss _Christmas_!"

"I'll be back the day after." Bruce says, looking tired, like he'd been expecting this. That kind of makes Jason madder, for some reason. All he's asking is for Bruce to be there for Christmas. That's not exactly unreasonable.

"But you can't do that! You'll miss presents, and dinner and all that!"

"Jason, I have to go. I tracked down a lead to Siberia. It's a time sensitive case. A lot of people could get hurt if I didn't go."

Jason looks at him, incredulously. "You're going to _Siberia_? In _December_?"

Bruce winces. "Yes. It will just be a week. I will be fine."

"Uh huh. You're gonna freeze to death." Jason says. "And then you'll miss Alfred's plum cake."

Bruce rests his chin on one of his hands. "I promise you Jay, I won't freeze to death."

Jason crosses his arms. "Don't believe you. I'm coming with you. To keep you safe."

Bruce just snorts.

Jason narrows his eyes. "Yes I _am_. And you can't stop me."

"Listen, I don't have time for this conversation. I'm flying out in another few hours and I need to make a few calls." Bruce says, getting up from his chair.

"Wait! Bruce, c'mon. I promise I'll stay out of your way. I won't even do any Robin stuff with you if you don't want to! I'll just stay in the hotel and-"

Bruce winces again.

Jason stops. "What?"

"It's. . . not a hotel. It's a small cabin. In the countryside. My lead's base of operations is situated not too far from there. It seemed like a covert and smart move to make." Bruce pauses. "At the time."

Jason stares. "You're staying in _rural_ Siberia? Bruce, what if you get frostbite and there are no hospitals? You'll just have to hack your leg off with a rusty axe that you find in the tool shed of your stupid cabin in _the middle of buttfu_ -"

"Language," Bruce says, sounding resigned. "There will be no hacking of legs, Jason. I'm sure the cabin will have a thermostat."

"I'm coming with you." Jason says definitively. "Someone's gotta take care of you."

Bruce starts walking across the study to open the door for Jason. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I-"

"Tell me," Jason says suddenly, "have you even remembered to tell Alfred that you're going away for Christmas?"

Bruce stops.

"I'm sure he'd be less than pleased to learn that you're going to skip that _Joy of Giving_ Christmas charity that you're supposed to attend on Thursday. The one that you promised Alfred you'd attend." Jason smiles slowly, the grin spreading across his face. He's genius. "That, and Christmas Eve dinner, of course. I could tell him that it was an emergency trip that we had to make to Metropolis, to get some papers signed at the bureau of Adoption there, before the end of the year. But that would mean I'd have to come along too."

Bruce sits back in his chair. "I could make up another excuse." He says after a while.

"Sure you could." Jason says lightly. "But he won't believe you. Not after that stunt you pulled when you went to Kyrgyzstan for two weeks to track down Riddler instead of going to the _Save the Whales_ concert that you were the chief guest of. Didn't even find the Riddler. He was in Pasadena. Going to those dumb card conventions."

Bruce frowns. "I was following a lead. And sometimes I make mistakes."

Jason scoffs. "Yeah, _right_. I could count on one hand the number of times you've made a mistake when it came to the detective-y stuff. And it almost always coincides with charity functions. I wonder why."

"This lead is real, Jason."

"And I believe that, B. I really do. You know who won't? Alfred." Jay grins, leaning on Bruce's desk. "You've got two options. Think about it."

Bruce frowns again. " _Hnn_. Have your bags packed in an hour."

Jason whoops. "Really? This is gonna be so much fun, B. Just you wait."

Bruce scrubs at his face. "Pack for cold weather. If you're not ready in time, I'm leaving without you."

"Sure thing, Boss." Jason yells back cheerfully as he leaves the study, and he can distinctively hear Bruce sigh from behind him.  
Does this mean he gets to pack the winter Robin suit? He grins. This is gonna be _awesome_.

  
*

  
Jason walks over to Bruce's seat in the private plane. He's looking over some kind of database on his laptop.

"Are we there yet?" Jason asks.

"No."

"Whatcha doing?"

"Checking to see if our lead is on any watchlists. Sometimes that makes it easier." Bruce says.

"Makes what easier?"

"Convicting him. The Batman leaving a man handcuffed in a foreign police station doesn't always have the same effect as it does in Gotham. The Batman has friends in Gotham. Not here."

"So you need evidence?"

"I already have evidence. I'm looking for probable cause. Proof of motive. Things like that. Things I'll teach you when you're older."

"I'm older now. I'll be twelve in six months."

"That's not old enough."

Jason shrugs.

"Can I play solitaire on your laptop?"

"No."

Bruce continues to work in silence, looking at the laptop screen intently.

Jason looks around, bored. "Are we there yet?" He asks.

Bruce looks up. "This is why I said you shouldn't come. Case work is always exhaustive and long. Not to mention tedious, for someone your age. You could have stayed home and eaten cookies and watched Christmas specials with Alfred."

"Christmas specials are for _babies_ ," Jason informs him. "And I can be mature and exhaustive."

"That's not-" Bruce starts, and then sighs and appears to have given up. "Go back to your seat and sit down. Try to get some sleep. We won't be there for another five hours yet."

"Okay. I'm going back to my seat now."

"Good."

"I'll probably watch a movie or something."

"Fine."

"It won't be a Christmas special, though."

" _Jason_."

"Alright, alright, I'm going!"

He goes back to his seat, and he watches _Pocahontas_ , which is probably like, the farthest thing from a Christmas special ever, right? He falls asleep in the middle of the movie though, and he wakes up just before the flight lands. He's confused for a bit though, because he was pretty sure he didn't sleep with a blanket on him.

And there's no one on the plane except Bruce. And the pilot. But the pilot's been flying the plane.

Jason grins.

  
*

  
Siberia is so cold that Jason's balls have retracted well into his esophagus.

Bruce rubs at his temples when Jason says that. "Put your parka on." He says.

"But it's for wearing _outside_." Jason says, shivering even though he's wearing like four layers of clothes. And he's in the cabin bed, with the comforters all piled on him and the small space heater on.  
The cabin is really tiny, with just one bed and a small bathroom, a little couch off to one side, and a small kitchenette off to another. Their suitcases take up most of the space near the entranceway, and outside the one window they have, Jason can see the thick snowfall covering the countryside.

Bruce takes out Jason's parka from the suitcase, and puts it on the bed next to him. "Not in Russia in December it's not. If you catch a cold on Christmas, Alfred is going to be very angry at me. And I'd prefer to stay in his good graces."

Jason grins though his chattering teeth. "Figures. The one person that Batman is afraid of, and it's his butler."

Bruce sits down on the edge of the bed. He regards Jason for a while. "There are a lot more things other than Alfred that I'm afraid of," he says after a while, his voice soft. He's looking at Jason like that's supposed to mean something.

"Warm up," he says. "We're going out tonight."

  
*

They crouch by a stairwell, in the dark.

"Are you sure he's supposed to come by here?" Jason whispers. They're in some kind of underground base, a few miles away from their cabin. They've been waiting for about an hour now. At least it's warmer here. Jason has begun to suspect the degree of efficiency of the cabin's thermostat.

"Yes. Be patient." Bruce says. Jason's kind of hiding under Bruce's cape, which he totally wouldn't be doing usually but _god it's so cold_. Bruce is wearing the insulated batsuit, which means he has an actual fur lined cape. In theory it should look ridiculous, but it actually looks really cool. He looks like that guy from _Game of Thrones_. Jason makes sure to tell him this.

"Thank you," Bruce says wryly. A pause. Then, "you're too young to be watching that show."

"Dick watches it sometimes, and he always lets me watch with him." Jason says.

" _Hnn_. Stay quiet. Someone's here."

Jason steps out from under the cape. There's a man coming down the stairs. He can smell cigarette smoke. The man is talking on the phone.

Jason looks at Bruce. Bruce nods.

Together, they move.

Jason springs out from under the stairwell, and gets in a punch to his stomach before the man knows what's happened. Bruce follows, and sweeps his legs out from under him. But the man is larger and stronger than they had anticipated, and he's smarter too. His presses his cigarette onto any exposed skin he can find on Jason, which in this case, happens to be his neck. Jason gasps, jerking back.

Bruce looks at him, distracted, and the man takes the opportunity to punch Bruce right in the face. Bruce stumbles back a little, and the man takes the few seconds head start that he gets to turn back the way he came from, and runs up the stairs.

Bruce looks at him.

"I'm okay," Jason says, touching his neck tenderly. "Let's go."

They run.

The stairs lead up to an exit, out of the compound, and into a fresh wall of cold. Jason squints, trying to make out where the man went. Everything is covered in a dense layer of white, and the snow is still falling heavily. He scans the surroundings until— _there_. He can see a lone figure getting smaller and smaller as he runs farther away into the woods at the edge of the base.

He looks at Bruce to see if he sees it too. He has. They both sprint towards the man, snow crunching below their boots, melting to mush. It slows their progress some, but Bruce hasn't been training him to run on sand for nothing, and they catch up to him near a clearing.

Jason's breath comes out of his mouth in hard gusts, misting before him. He aims to punch the man's solar plexus, but the man blocks him and flips him neatly over his shoulder and down below.

Two things occur to Jason at that moment.

The first: They didn't catch up to him at a clearing in the woods. They caught up to him near a lake. The lake the he is currently in, right now.

And the second, _Fuck_ it's _cold_.

The cold surrounds every part of him, seeping through the layers of fur and leather. It's so cold that it actually _burns_ , and he initially tries to flinch away, before he realises that he can't actually move. He's stuck. The man threw him straight through the ice, and now he can't get out of the lake without breaking more of the thin layer of ice.  
He tries not to swallow the water, rising to the surface and taking large gasping lungfuls of air that burn at his lungs. He coughs, flailing in the water. God it's so _cold_. Maybe he can do something like inch up—

He hears a groan, and a thud-like noise, and then silence.

"Robin?" A voice calls out.

"In here," Jason says weakly

A soft crunching noise, and then a figure stares down at him from the shore. "Shit." Bruce says.

Jason coughs. "Yeah."

"Extend your arm as much as you can," Bruce says, standing as close to the ice as possible, and stretching his arm out.

Jason holds up a hand towards Bruce's. It's still too far. He sniffles, trying hard not to panic. "It's really cold, Bruce." He hopes Bruce won't be mad that he broke the _no real names_ rule. He sniffles again.

"Okay," Bruce says, his voice calm. "Take a deep breath, Jason. Stop flailing around. You can do it. Stretch your arm out. I know you can make the distance."

Jason takes a shaky breath. He stretches his arm out again, and this time the tips of his fingers touch Bruce's. A warm wash of relief shoots through him.

"There you go," Bruce says. He clasps Jason's hand tighter, and pulls him out of the water in one fluid motion. Jason gasps. The wind blowing around them is so much colder now that he's soaked in freezing water.

"I've got you, I've got you," Bruce is saying, and suddenly the wind is gone, he's covered up in Bruce's fur lined cape, the cool one that Jason's never been more grateful for. He's shivering so hard his back is beginning to hurt.

He looks over Bruce's shoulder, and sees that the guy they were chasing is lying on the snow, unconcious. A small trickle of blood coming out of his nose. There's a sticky red streak of it on the snow.

"What are you going to do with him?" Jason asks, his teeth chattering.

Bruce looks at the prone man like he'd forgotten he was there. He's silent for a minute. He's thinking. "I need to take you back to the cabin. Or you could get hypothermia."

"But then he'll get away!"

"Yes."

"You can't do that, we flew eleven hours to get him!" Jason tries to sit up, but Bruce pushes him gently back down.

"Him, among others." He says. "I can't leave you here alone. You'll freeze."

"No I won't. Not if you build me a fire."

Bruce stares at him. "Fires make smoke. Smoke rises. Someone might see where you are."

Jason looks at him, his teeth chattering. "Not if you build it right." The first thing Alfred had done after enrolling him in a school was send him to one of those wretched overnight camps. It would help him in 'building character', Alfred had said. It didn't help him build shit. Except a dumb smokeless fire that he didn't think he'd ever need.

Bruce pauses, still indecisive.

"Do it fast!" Jason hisses. "My fingers feel like they're going to fall off and freeze. I'll tell you how."

"I'm Batman. I know how to make a fire." Bruce says. He sounds slightly testy.

"So Alfred sent you to camp too, huh?"

Bruce makes a sound that somehow conveys both amusement and frustration. "Go over there. Near the trees. I don't want anyone finding you by accident."

Jason goes and sits by some trees and watches while Bruce makes the fire in front of him. He drags some driftwood from near the lake, setting a smaller kindling layer on top of the bigger logs. He takes out a lighter from his belt, and slowly, a small flame that gets larger and larger until it starts to eat away at the wood. Jason moves closer to it, eagerly taking in the heat. Bruce looks back at the unconcious man, and then at him.

"The wood is still somewhat wet, so it won't burn out fast. If it looks like it's starting to, add a few bigger logs onto the sides. Not the top, or you'll cut off the air and the fire will die." He hands Jason a small gray box. A Walkie-talkie, Jason realises. They've used it sometimes before, when they're on patrol. "Do _not_ switch this off. If anything happens, _anything_ , you need to tell me. If a bird flies funny, I want to know. Do _not_ leave this spot unless you see someone coming. I won't be able to find you again if you do. If you see anyone coming, you _run_. Don't try to stay and fight. Do you understand?"

"Stop freaking out, B. I'll be fine." Jason mumbles. The warmth of the fire is making him drowsy.

"Absolutely do _not_ fall asleep." Bruce says. Jason hears the crinkling noise of a wrapper, and then he's handed a small bar of chocolate. "To keep your energy up. And your eyes open."

Jason takes the bar. "I'll be fine. Seriously."

Bruce looks like he wants to say something more. "I don't like this," he says finally.

"It's not too great for me either." Jason tells him, pulling the cape closer around his shoulders.

Bruce gives him one last look, and then gets up, off the snow. "I'll be back in an hour. Hopefully earlier. Stay put."

Jason nods, and watches as Bruce drags the man further and further away, a small figure receding into the white landscape.

It's only once Bruce is gone that Jason realises that he's going to have to make the trip in the blinding cold without the warmth of his cape.

  
*

His eyes get heavier and heavier as time passes, and he has to jerk awake at least twice to avoid falling into the flames. He eats the bar of chocolate, and rubs at his eyes. Minutes pass slowly. He doesn't think he's ever felt so cold. Not even in those days that he lived in abandoned buildings, with no heat in those long winter nights. He sneezes, and then groans. Great, now he's going to get sick.

The sun starts to set slowly, and the sky becomes pinkish. There's a static sound from the walkie-talkie, and Jason brings it closer to his face.

"I'm on my way back." The static hisses and crackles around Bruce's voice. Connectivity can't be too great here.

"Okay." Jason says, and sneezes. "I think I'm catching a cold."

"I'll be there in five." Bruce says, sounding grim.

When Bruce reaches, it's even darker. The cold is really starting to set in. It's only because of the fire that Jason is able to see Bruce approach.

Bruce kicks some snow into the fire, and Jason is scooped up, and Bruce starts walking. Jason closes his eyes.

"'M tired." He mumbles.

"I know." Bruce says. "You're still cold. You need a hot shower."

"I'm sorry." Jason says. "I messed up and then he got away. And then I messed up again and I'm sick and now you have to worry about me and catch those guys."

"It's not your fault." Bruce says, and Jason relaxes fractionally. "It's mine. I should never have brought you here. It was a mistake. You're too young. Not ready to go out of Gotham yet."

Jason opens his eyes and looks at him incredulously. "Wait, _what_?"

Bruce actually looks _serious_. "I miscalculated. Don't worry, I'll have you back in Gotham by tomorrow."

Jason stares. "You're sending me back?"

"Jason, it's not safe for-"

"The _hell_ it's not safe! I'm a kid, not _stupid_! I can take care of myself."

"Evidently." Bruce says, under his breath.

Jason looks at him with narrowed eyes. "You get hurt on Patrol _all_ the time. So don't give me that 'you're too young to take care of yourself' bullshit."

"This _isn't_ the same. And you know it."

"It's exactly the same. Put me down. I'll walk the rest of the way."

Bruce hesitates, and then sets Jason down. They walk the rest of the way in silence. Once or twice Jason feels Bruce looking over at him, but he keeps looking straight ahead.

No _way_ he's going back to Gotham tomorrow.

  
*

  
As soon as he's back in the cabin, Jason makes a beeline for the shower. Shivering, he peels off the wet Robin suit and stands under the showerhead, letting the hot water run over him until he can feel his fingers again. He brushes his teeth and tries to towel off his hair as best as he can. He changes into dry clothes, a sweater and pajama bottoms and thick socks, and steps out of the bathroom.

Outside, Bruce has changed out of his suit as well, and is typing something on his laptop. He looks up when Jason steps out of the bathroom. Points to a mug of something steaming on the bedside table.

"I made you some coffee. Drink all of it." He says.

"Fine." Jason says shortly, and gets under the covers. He sips the coffee slowly, careful not to burn his tongue. Bruce is still watching him.

"Sorry it's not hot chocolate. There wasn't any cocoa." Bruce says, his voice kind of gruff sounding. It's the way he talks when he's feeling uncomfortable, Jason knows.

"It's okay."

"Okay." Bruce says. A pause. "Do you need anything else? Some Benadryl?"

"No."

"You want to play solitaire on my laptop?"

"No. I think I'm just going to go to sleep now, Bruce." Jason turns in the bed, pulling the covers up. He closes his eyes and tries to slow his breathing.

There is a brief silence. After a while he hears the typing sound resume.

Maybe it's not long after, or maybe he really did fall asleep, but he hears Bruce close his laptop, walk across the room, and then the sound of the bathroom door shutting. He opens his eyes and peeks out from underneath the blanket. After a bit, he hears the shower running. Jason sits up and looks forlornly at his suitcase. He's going to have to pack again.

He lies back down and shuts his eyes, and before long, the bathroom door opens. Footsteps across the room again.

There's a dip in the bed as Bruce sits on one side.

"Jay," Bruce says. "Are you awake?"

Jason keeps his eyes shut. "No. Go away."

"I'm sorry." Bruce says. He pauses awkwardly, like he's unsure what to say next. "I was more angry at myself than at you."

"Do I really have to go back?"

"No," Bruce sighs. "I'd have to send you back alone anyway. I still have work here. And it's not a good idea if you're sick."

Jason smiles. He rolls over and sits up. "Really? So I can stay?"

"Yes." Bruce says. "But you have to stay here. In this cabin. No more field work."

Jason shrugs. "I just want to stay. That's all."

Bruce looks confused. "Why? It's cold and there's nothing to do here. Why would you possibly want to stay and waste your vacation?"

Jason shrugs again. There's no way he could explain that he wants to spend Christmas with Bruce without sounding like a total gross sap. "This place is cool," Jason says instead. "I heard you can see the Northern lights."

Bruce gets up to switch off the light, and comes back to the bed. He's wearing that sweatshirt that Dick and Jason got for him from some tourist booth in Gotham. The one that has the little cartoon batman dancing on it. Jason grins.

Bruce sees him grinning."Don't get too ahead of yourself. This was the warmest thing I could find."

"You're feeling it too, huh?" Jason says, feeling slightly guilty about that whole cape thing.

Bruce grunts, and lies down. "I'm fine."

They lie in silence, and Jason pulls the covers up closer. He sneezes again.

"I'm going to wake up tomorrow with a fever." He says.

Bruce holds up a hand to Jason's forehead. "I can stay, tomorrow. If you want."

Jason shakes his head. He feels bad enough that he slowed down Bruce's progress today. He doesn't want to screw up things further. "I'll be fine. I'll just, I don't know, stare at the walls until you come back, or something."

Bruce huffs out a quiet laugh. "I have some movies saved on my laptop. No Christmas specials, I promise."

Jason hums sleepily. "Cool."

Bruce turns over, and then it's quiet. An unearthly quiet. A sound Jason's never heard before. He can't hear people, or cars, or the muted sounds of helicopter blades or music muffled by walls. Just. . . nothing. The snow falling. Fir trees rustling. The wind whistling in between them.

"Hey, Bruce." Jason says.

"Hmm."

"Maybe we should move to Siberia and become a couple of goat herders."

"Maybe."

"It must be really nice here in the summers, right? Imagine that. The two of us staying in this cabin for real."

"Mmm."

"But I guess after a while we'd want to go back. I'd miss Alfred and Dick and my friends in school, and you'd miss Selina. And the justice league. Right?"

"Right."

"So I guess we can't be goat herders here."

"I guess not."

"Unless, of course, we could be goat herders in Gotham. Now that would be a spectacle, huh?"

"Jason, go to sleep."

"Okay. Good night."

"Good night."

  
A brief silence. Jason scratches his arm idly.

  
"Bruce?"

" _What_."

"So, uh, you remember when that guy pressed his cigarette onto my neck? It still kinda hurts and—"

A light flicks on and Bruce looks at him blearily. "What?"

"I think I have a burn on my neck," Jason says, tugging the high neck of the sweater down a little so Bruce can see.

Realisation quickly dawns on Bruce's face. He looks at the small burn, growing concern on his face.

"You should have told me earlier," he says. He sounds pretty upset.

Jason squirms uncomfortably. "We weren't talking, and I didn't really want to bring it up, so."

"Jason. It doesn't matter if we're not talking or fighting or at each other's throats. If you get hurt, you tell me. Is that clear?" Bruce is up again, rummaging through his suitcase for the medical kit. He comes back holding a tube of some kind of ointment.

"It didn't even blister, though. And I'm used to it. My Pops was kind of an asshole, you know."

Bruce stops midway through daubing the ointment on his neck, and gives him a strange look. "It doesn't matter. You get hurt, the first thing you do is let me know. Okay?"

Jason shrugs with one shoulder. Sometimes it feels like Bruce can see right through him. It's a very uncomfortable feeling.

Bruce gestures for Jason to lie back down and puts the covers over him. He switches off the light again.

"Go to sleep."

"I can't. It's the jet lag."

"Close your eyes and count to a thousand."

"But that's super boring!"

"Jason." Bruce sounds tired.

"Okay, okay. Fine." Jason closes his eyes. And it could be the exhaustion, or it could be his cold, but he does fall asleep. Eventually.

Although he can almost swear he doesn't just dream of a hand carding through his hair when he does.

  
*

Sure enough, he wakes up the next day with a fever.

"Stop it," he groans, at the spoon nudging at his mouth.

"If you don't drink it, I can't give you any medicine." Bruce says, for like the hundredth time.

"I don't like chicken soup out of a can." He says. He knows he probably sounds like a whiny kid, but he's tired and _cold_ and _sleepy_ Bruce won't stop shoving the goddamned _soup_ down his throat.

"Alfred has been spoiling you. This the best I could do." Bruce says sternly. "Drink."

Jason pouts. "This sucks."

"Yes. _Drink_."

Jason sips some more of the soup reluctantly. "Hey. I never asked what you did to that guy yesterday."

"I dropped him off at the district police station with his FBI and Interpol case file taped onto his front. He'll probably have to be extradited." Bruce moves to the kitchenette to warm up some more soup.

"The police station? Isn't that like, thirty miles away?"

"I drove fast."

Jason raises his eyebrows. "In whose car?'

"One that I found in the compound."

"Bruce, that's _stealing_!" Jason says, and then sneezes.

Bruce hands him some tissues. "I didn't steal it. I borrowed it, and then returned it. No one even noticed it was gone."

Jason blows his nose. "Are you going back there today?"

"There, and some other places." He hands Jason some more soup.

Jason makes a face. He looks at Bruce, rummaging through the bare cupboards looking for some salt for the soup. There's a receipt on the counter from a convenience store. It occurs to Jason that Bruce probably walked for at least an hour in the cold, trying to find a store that sold soup cans and cough syrup. And then he had to walk back here and defrost it—something he's positive Bruce learnt how to do five minutes ago, with the help of a satellite phone and Alfred's neverending patience—all before Jason woke up.  
If Jason hadn't come along with him, a major chunk of his mission would probably have been over by now. Instead he's stuck taking care of an eleven year old who keeps getting himself into trouble.

"Hey, uh. Thanks for the soup. It's pretty good." Jason says.

Bruce stops going through the cupboards and turns around to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "I thought you hated the soup."

"It's. . . an acquired taste."

Bruce gives him a look. "How's your temperature?"

"A hundred and one." Jason says.

Bruce leans back against the counter, and looks at the empty soup can.

"This is the second time I'll be leaving you." He says.

"I'll be fine, really. You can go. I'll watch Star Wars and pretend I'm in Hoth."

Bruce gives him a wary look. "As long as you don't leave the cabin to venture out into Hoth." He sets the walkie talkie from the day before onto the counter. "You remember what I told you. Call me if anything happens. Stay in bed. Have the cough syrup once you're finished with the soup. And the ibuprofen. Put some more of that ointment on your burn. Call if you see anyone coming."

"Bruce, stop _worrying_. No one could find this place. Trust me. Even if they did, they'd take one look at the place and turn around and go right back."

Bruce exhales. "Fine. I'll be back in a few hours."

Jason watches at he puts the suit back on, leaving the cabin quietly, and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

Jason lies back down on the bed, fires up Bruce's video media player, and settles in for a long wait.

  
*

  
Bruce comes back seven hours later looking like a lawn mower ran over his face. That, and his arm looks like someone actually _bit_ it.

"What the _hell_ , B?" Jason says, frantically trying to staunch the blood flow. "Did you get attacked by a _bear_ or something?"

"Dog," Bruce gasps, as Jason presses down the gauze harder on his bicep. "Big dog. One of the men had it. Wasn't— _hnn_. Very friendly."

"Well, was it at least vaccinated? You could get rabies or something." Jason says, feeling kind of freaked out. Bruce doesn't just get hurt like this. And even when he does, Alfred's always there to make things better.

"I don't _know_ , Jason. I didn't have time to ask." Bruce says shortly. He grunts again when Jason takes off the gauze.

"I think the bleeding's stopped." Jason says anxiously. "But you'll need stitches, and I can't—"

"That's fine. Get the suture kit." Bruce says, "and some warm water."

"But what will you—"

"Jason, _now_." Bruce snaps.

Jason gets the kit and the heats up some water in the kettle in the kitchenette. He puts it in a small cup. He hands them to Bruce. "You're going to do it yourself?" He asks in a small voice.

Bruce's breaths are still shaky. He picks up the forceps. "And you're going to help me."

Jason swallows. "I don't- I don't know how to do that."

"You don't have to do any of the tough part." Bruce says. He starts to wipe at the wound with the hot water, gritting his teeth.

Jason stands to a side, looking on anxiously.

"Hey." Bruce says. Jason looks up at him. His face is a mess. There's a cut on one cheekbone, and a contusion on his temple where it looks like someone hit him with the back of a gun. Still, he looks put together. In control. "I'm sorry I snapped at you." Bruce says. "But the faster this gets dressed, the less chance there is of infection. Okay? And I need your help."

Jason nods once, shakily.

Bruce hands him the forceps, with the nylon thread in between its two tips. "All you need to do is hold onto this. I can't use both hands, so I'm going to stitch with my left. Come over to this side."

Jason goes over to Bruce's right side. He holds the forceps carefully, above Bruce's wound, and Bruce starts stitching himself up.

He tries not to look too hard at what Bruce is doing, and instead focuses on Bruce's face. Every once in a while Bruce exhales, or grunts from the pain. Jason's sure that the average person would probably be unconcious at this point.

"Does it hurt a lot?" Jason asks, his voice still sounding small.

"Yes."

"What kind of dog was it?"

"I don't know. Didn't get a good look. Big and black. Some kind of hound, I think."

"Bruce?"

"Hm."

"Did you hurt the dog?"

The needle stops mid stitch. "No." Bruce says, his voice softer."I didn't hurt the dog."

"What about the guys with the dog. Did you hurt them?'

"Yes."

"Do they look a lot worse than you do?"

Bruce smiles. "Yes. Yes, they do."

"Good." Jason says.

  
*

They spend the afternoon and evening in the cabin, sitting around and watching the snow fall. Or at least, Jason does anyway. Bruce finishes up his case report and restocks his belt. Then he takes a bunch of painkillers and goes to bed, in hopes of sleeping off his injuries.

It's night now, and Bruce is still sleeping. Jason doesn't try to wake him up. He probably needs all the rest he can get.

Jason stares out of the window. His breath fogs up the glass. He still feels pretty shitty, although the fever is mostly gone. If he was back at the manor right now, he'd still be confined to a bed, fed hot good soup and crackers. And he'd get to watch as much TV as he wanted. Alfred's cool that way.  
And there'd be no patrol. Just Bruce coming to see him in his room after he got home from work, clearing his throat awkwardly and asking how he was doing. Sometimes Jason thinks Bruce doesn't really know what exactly to _do_ with Jason, when he's not training him or giving him orders.

"Jason?" Comes a voice, rough with sleep.

Jason turns around and looks at Bruce. Bruce is sitting up slightly, propped up on his elbows. He looks slightly better; his face somewhat resembles that of a normal human's again.

"How're you feeling, big guy?" Jason asks. He jumps onto the bed, doing a front roll. He's not as good as Dick when it comes to acrobatics, but he can hold his own.

Bruce groans when Jason's elbow grazes against his injured arm. "Stop jumping around on the mattress, or I'm going to assume you're all better and make you shovel the snow off of the entranceway."

"Sorry," Jason says automatically, and then, "wait, you've been shoveling the snow all this time?"

"Who else did you think was doing it?"

Jason shrugs. "I don't know. I just. . . kind of forgot about it."

"Well, I was doing it. Yesterday, when you were asleep. And today in the morning, also when you were asleep."

"Oh. You can't do it anymore now, huh? With that arm."

Bruce winces. "I'll manage. Don't worry about me."

"It's my job to worry about you." Jason tells him, seriously. "Alfred always says you never take enough care of yourself."

"Alfred worries too much. Don't listen to him."

Jason considers this. "Okay," he says, sidling up closer to Bruce. "But consider this. If you're taking care of me, then who's going to take care of you?"

Bruce smiles a little. "I don't need anyone to take care of me." He takes ahold of Jason's hand. "But the sentiment is appreciated."

Jason stares at their hands in some surprise. Wow, Bruce must be on some strong painkillers.

He lies down, coughing a little.

Bruce looks at him. "How's the fever?"

"Okay. Better."

"I'll get you some hot water. And cough syrup. It's time for your medicine anyway." Bruce starts to get off the bed, and then winces as he accidentally puts pressure on his lacerated arm.

Jason snorts. "Man. Two days in Mother Russia and the unstoppable _Batman and Robin_ sure got stopped, huh?"

"Hnn." Bruce says, walking to the table near the sofa to get the bottle of cough syrup. "We're leaving day after tomorrow. I got more work done than I expected, so we're cutting this trip short. I've had just about enough of _Mother Russia_ , at this point."

Jason shrugs.

Bruce gives him a strange look. "I thought you wanted to see the Northern lights. Aren't you disappointed?"

"I'll just see them another time." Jason says. "Not like they're going anywhere."

Bruce hands him the cold medicine and a cup of water. The water is steaming slightly, and Jason puts his face over it and sighs. "Can you remember the last time you felt warm? 'Cause I can't." He sneezes again. "Also, my feet are freezing."

Bruce lies back down on the bed and closes his eyes. "Get another blanket. And wear socks."

"I _am_ wearing socks."

"Wear another pair over them."

Jason huffs. "I don't want to get out of bed. It would mean getting out from under the blanket."

Bruce makes a vague noise in assent, half asleep.

Slowly, Jason slides his feet underneath Bruce's legs. Bruce is like a furnace anyway, he's always warm, and maybe if Jason's just quiet and stealthy enough he can—

"Get your icy feet away from me." Bruce growls.

Jason sighs, sliding away again. "It was just an idea."

*

He's sick again, and his mom is singing to him.

That song she always sings to him when he gets sick, one about the fairies in the secret forest. That one that he loves. He's under a blanket, and his mom is stroking his hair. She smiles down at him. Her eyes are brown and warm. Warm. When was the last time he felt warm?

She's singing so softly. Jason closes his eyes. For some reason he can't catch any of the words. They slip away from his ears, elusive whispers in the night time.

It doesn't matter. He relaxes into the soft centre of her voice, so warm and sweet. She's put his head on her lap, smoothing his hair down his forehead. The palm of her hand is cool and comforting on his face. Jason leans into it.

She's crooning something softly, but Jason keeps forgetting the tune seconds after he's heard it. She laughs when she sees his face like that, confused. She lifts up his palm, and kisses it gently.

"Mom?" He says.

She nods, and smiles, and starts the song again.

  
When he wakes up, his face is wet with tears. He wipes at his eyes.

He sits up. He takes a few deep breaths. Bruce is looking at him, quiet and still in the dark.

"Don't." Jason says. He looks away. He wipes at his eyes again. Stupid.

"Jason." Bruce says.

"I'm fine."

"Jason."

"Really, I'm okay." He says, but the words sound hollow to his own ears.

"Lie back down," Bruce says.

Jason does.

Bruce moves closer to him and does up all his blankets again, piling them up on top of each other. Then he props himself up on one elbow at studies Jason. They're just looking at each other.

"It was about my mom." Jason whispers, after a while. "She was singing a song to me."

"That's nice," Bruce says.

"Yeah."

Bruce looks down, at the mattress. "I want you to know, if there's anything you have to tell me, you can always ju—"

"I know," Jason says.

Bruce's eyes flick up to his. "You do?"

"Yeah."

Bruce lies back down. "Good." He says.

They're both silent for a long time after that, but neither of them fall asleep. After a while, Jason puts his head on top of Bruce's chest. Bruce puts an arm over him.

"Tell me a story." Jason whispers.

"What?"

"A story. Like, a bedtime story."

"You're too old for those now."

"No I'm not."

A pause. And then, "I don't know any stories," Bruce says.

"Sure you do. Everyone knows stories. Didn't your parents tell you any when you were a kid?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Bruce hesitates. "There was this one that my father told me once."

"Well?"

"It was- it was about a bird. The bird was thirsty, looking around for water everywhere, and—"

"What kind of bird?"

"It- a crow, I think. I can't remember."

"Okay. What did the crow do?"

"It found a pot with a little water in it. But the pot was huge, and the water was deep down. The crow couldn't quite reach all the way down to drink it."

"What then?"

"I'd tell you, if you could stop interrupting." Bruce says. "It saw some pebbles on the ground, and got an idea. The crow dropped a pebble into the pot. The water level rose some. Then it dropped another. It rose some more. With each pebble that he dropped, the water rose a little higher. Finally, it rose enough for the crow to drink. He drank the water and was happy. The end."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"What does it mean?"

"I think it implies that you should think outside the box or possess ingenuity. Something along those lines."

"Well. That's dumb." Jason pauses. "Um, no offense to your dad."

Bruce smiles, a wry twist of his mouth. "None taken."

"Maybe the moral is that you should always keep pebbles in your pocket."

Bruce laughs, an exhale against Jason's hair. "Maybe." He says, quietly.

"If I was the crow, I would've just knocked over the pot." Jason says.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you did."

"Fuck you, pebbles. I don't need you."

"No swearing," Bruce murmurs, smiling. "Go to sleep."

  
When Jason finally does fall asleep, there are no more dreams.

  
*

He wakes up to amazing warmth.

"I fixed the thermostat." Bruce says, handing him a cup of coffee. Jason sits up, squinting to look around him. He can see from the window outside that it has finally stopped snowing.

Jason sips from the cup. "Merry Christmas." He says.

"Merry Christmas."

He gets out of bed, luxuriating in the fact that he doesn't have to face the cold when he gets out from under the covers.

"Are you going out again today?" He asks Bruce, who's eating an omelette meditatively, and staring at his laptop. Jason goes and sits at the table opposite Bruce.

"Yes."

"But you're still hurt."

"I have to wrap up this case today if you want to go back to Gotham tomorrow."

Jason makes a face. "But it's Christmas." The only reason he came _was_ to spend Christmas with Bruce.

"I'll only be out a few hours. We can spend the evening together." Bruce pushes his plate away, standing up. He walks towards his suitcase and takes out a package from his suitcase. It's gift wrapped, Jason sees.

"Aw, B. You didn't have to." Jason says, grinning.

Bruce puts the package on Jason's lap. "I made you eggs for breakfast. Eat up."

Jason opens it carefully, making sure not to tear too much of the wrapping. Alfred likes to reuse it. He'll put it back in his suitcase and give it to him when he reaches the manor.

Bruce puts a plate of eggs in front of him. Jason eyes it warily. For all his talents, Bruce has never been much of a cook.

"How are you feeling." Bruce says.

"Better. Fever's gone." Jason says, looking at his gift. "It's a book."

"Yes."

Jason screws up his face. He doesn't really read books. "What's it about?" He says, just to be polite.

"It's about a boy called Milo who discovers a magic tollbooth. It was one of my favourite books growing up. Now it's yours." Bruce sits back down at the table, and opens up his laptop again.

Jason flips to the front page. On it, is a childish scrawl that says _'Bruce Wayne. 1991_.' It looks so different from Bruce's handwriting now.

Jason grins. "Nerd."

"Eat your eggs." Bruce says, but there's something not unlike amusement in his voice.

"Hey," Jason says after a bit. "I didn't get you anything."

"Yes you did." Bruce says. "You're shoveling the snow outside today. I can't, with my arm."

"But that's not _fair_ , I'm sick!" Jason says.

"Really." Bruce raises an eyebrow. "I recall you mentioning that you were all better now."

Jason groans. "You can't make me work on Christmas."

"Watch me," Bruce says, not even looking up from the screen. "And do it fast, I need to leave in five minutes."

Jason sighs. So much for a fun Christmas.

  
*

"Put on your parka, and come outside." Bruce says, the moment he's back in through the door.

Jason looks up from his book. That dumb tollbooth one that he can't put down. "What?"

Bruce starts to disassemble his suit, unlocking catches and plates of armour as he starts walking towards the bathroom. "Put on your parka," he says again. "We're going outside."

Jason frowns. He looks outside the window, at the low evening light and the unending layer of snow coating everything he can see for miles. "Outside? _Now_?"

"Yes." Bruce says, his voice muffled through the door of the bathroom.

"So you wrapped up the case then? Did you get all the guys? Where did you take them, the police station again? How did you—"

"Yes, to all those things. Let's go." Bruce says, coming out of the bathroom, now wearing his normal clothes. He pulls a sweater over his head, and then starts putting on Jason's parka for him.

"I can do this myself, you know." Jason says, as his arm is being pushed through a sleeve.

"Clearly not fast enough." Bruce mutters.

"Where are we— _ow_! Be gentle with that! Where are we going?" Jason says, as he's being pushed out of the door and into the cold.

"You'll see." Bruce says, putting his own parka on. He takes something out from his jeans' pocket. A pair of keys.

Jason realises that they're standing in front of a beat up looking pick up truck.

"B, did you borrow a car again?" Jason asks, rolling his eyes.

"Get in." Bruce says, going over to the other side.

Jason gets in the car. Inside, it's warm. Bruce must've had the heater on when he was driving back. Jason looks around curiously.

There's a torch and a medical kit in the backseat. A shotgun. No, an assault rifle. Semi-automatic. Jason raises his eyebrows.

"Whose car _is_ this?" He asks. Certainly not just some local's.

"One of the men I apprehended."

" _Bruce_!"

"He won't be needing it anymore." Bruce switches on the ignition and backs out of the short driveway.

Jason covers his face with his hands. "I can't believe you stole the man's truck."

"Borrowed."

"Whatever. Where are we going anyway?"

"There's ice on these roads. Let me concentrate."

"So you're not going to tell me till we reach."

"No."

Jason sighs, and leans back in his seat, reclining it all the way back. "Fine. I'm taking a nap. Tell me when we get there."

  
He's shaken awake some time later, a gloved hand on his shoulder. He hadn't actually thought he'd fall asleep.

"What is it." He squints. They're on some kind of a hill. There's snow everywhere. It's dark out now.

Bruce points to the something, through the windshield. Jason leans forward to look.

He's pointing to the sky, Jason realises.

"Woah," Jason breathes, looking at it.

"Yes."

"That's— that's pretty amazing, B."

"I thought I'd take you to see it before we left. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

They sit in silence for a while, and watch the Northern lights. After a while he realises Bruce is looking at him.

"What is it?" Jason says again.

Bruce looks down, at his hands. "I want you to know that these trips I take, they're always purely for work. It's something I have to get done and out of the way."

"I know, I'm sorry." Jason says, feeling embarrassed. "I made this whole thing tough on you." Bruce had to take care of him, and get him medicines and food and pull him out of a goddamn _lake_ and—

Bruce frowns. "What? No. I was going to say that you made it bearable. I certainly wouldn't have fared as well on my own."

Jason raises his eyebrows. "Are you _kidding_? You literally had to call Alfred and ask him how to defrost soup for me. How is that enjoyable at all?"

"I got to spend Christmas with my son," Bruce says softly. "That was pretty enjoyable."

"Oh," Jason says, his cheeks reddening. _Son_. He's never said that before.

Bruce is busy studying his hands again, the awkward sack of repressed emotions that he is, so Jason climbs over the centre console and hugs him.

Bruce arms come around him in surprise, before he relaxes slightly.

"Thanks, Bruce." Jason mumbles into his sweater.

Bruce holds him tighter in reply.

The Northern lights go on shining. Jason holds on tight. He thinks about it in his head. _Dad_. A few months ago, Jason would've laughed at that. A few months back he didn't even particularly trust Bruce. He looks up at him.

Bruce is looking at him with something strange in his eyes. Like maybe he's feeling it too. Like maybe it's surprising him as well. He gives him a little smile.

 _Dad_. Maybe he could imagine it.

  
*

On the plane back home Bruce lets him play solitaire on his laptop and then they watch _Die Hard,_ which may be Christmas themed, but isn't a Christmas special.

(The distinction is very important.)

Jason curls up in his seat next to Bruce after the end of the movie. "D'you think Alfred with give us plum cake even if it's the day after Christmas?"

"Yes."

"Do we have to patrol?"

"You don't. I do. You can stay at home, with Alfred. Dick is coming over later."

Jason moves closer to Bruce. "If you're going, I'm coming with you." He tells him. It's his job to have Bruce's back.

Bruce looks at Jason. "Alright." He says, his voice strangely soft.

"You wanna watch another movie?"

"No I—," he stops when Jason gives him a look. "Yes," he says, sighing. "Yes I do."

"Great." Jason says. He picks up the remote, and they settle in for the long flight.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Epilogue: Alfred makes them plum cake and then they mean to go to patrol but instead they go to sleep for like ten hours because jet lag and in the morning Bruce reads the paper and finds out that there's been like 12 bank robberies and he just dies a little inside. The end.


End file.
